


Drained

by LoveandScience



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Injury Recovery, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 12:45:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14402409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveandScience/pseuds/LoveandScience
Summary: Gabriel takes time to recover from his wounds and trauma after fleeing the bunker.





	Drained

**Author's Note:**

> Because I feel this way, too.

Gabriel landed-- barely-- in an empty apartment. He remembered staying here once upon a time, and was relieved to see the protections he’d left still in place, keeping anyone from really remembering about the room so it wouldn’t be rented out to anyone else. He collapsed in front of the sliding glass door to the balcony, lying on the floor, and reaching out to pull the string and open the curtain.

The sun warmed him, and he let his guard down. The facade of healing and power that he had shown faded, and his welts and cuts returned, ugly scars running jagged across his sore body.

At some point, he fell asleep.

 

Gabriel woke up in the late afternoon and wearily pushed himself to his hands and knees. He fought back a retch and clutched at his stomach. Why was he hungry? He shouldn’t be hungry.

Not having the energy to conjure food or fly anywhere, he dragged himself to the pantry. At this point, he wasn’t going to risk even looking in the refrigerator with how old the food was. Gripping the counter, Gabriel used great effort to pull himself up so he could rifle through the cupboards.

It took a couple minutes of slow moving and struggling to remember what he was looking for to find a can of food that wasn’t expired, and just when he let himself fall back down to the floor, he realized he needed a can opener. He almost cried.

Luckily, he was able to reach up and pull things out of drawers without standing again, and he eventually found the tool. He was so worn out from just these two small tasks that he wasn’t sure he had the energy left to actually open the can and then feed it to himself.

Time passed and the pain in his gut spurred him to finally move again. Gabriel got the can open and decided he didn’t have the energy to look for a fork, so he started slowly eating the wet green beans with his fingers.

His mouth was so dry, despite finishing the can, and Gabriel realized he needed water or something. Tortuously, but feeling slightly better after the food, he dragged himself back up and hunted down a cup. He filled it from the sink and took a sip, then gagged. Wanting to cry again, he poured it out then tried filling it from the fridge dispenser. It was marginally better, so he swallowed down a few cups full until he couldn’t drink anymore.

Having done that, Gabriel lied down by the door again and slept.

 

It was close to midnight when he woke again, and he realized how sore his muscles were. Not just from the torture, but from having expended so much energy getting himself food and water earlier. And yet, he knew he needed more. It wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to need these things.

He leaned against the door to get to a standing position, and was proud of himself for being able to walk over to the kitchenette this time. He found a can of carrots, filled a cup of water, then sat on the ground to consume his meal.

He hated this, feeling so useless. And he realized how badly he smelled. But there was no way he had the strength to bathe himself. And he’d seen how much food he had left, he wasn’t going to last more than a few days like this. He needed help, but there was no one to help him. Somehow, he had to manage the strength to do this on his own, and he wasn’t sure how that would happen.

 

He was surprised to feel slightly stronger the next afternoon, after more sleep and a couple more meals. He decided more important than getting clean was stocking up on food. That is, food that required no prep, would keep, and enough that if this trip wiped him out, he would have plenty of days to recover without needing to leave again.

Gabriel spread his sore wings, wincing at the pain of disuse, and took a deep breath. Then another deep breath. He didn’t want to leave the safety of his apartment or risk running into anyone, but he had to. Just the grocery down the street, that’s all he had to do. Go there, grab about a cartload of cans, and get back.

He flew.

The pain was worse than he thought, and he stumbled as he touched down, needing to lean against the edge of the building for support. Gabriel allowed himself some time to catch his breath, then forced himself upright and away from the wall, heading into the store with purpose.

Thank Dad for grocery carts, he thought, because it was the only thing helping him stay vertical as he got through the store. He tossed in can after can, and several packs of protein and weight gain shakes, knowing he needed the calories, even though he shouldn’t. Maybe it was his vessel. Sometimes, he blurred the lines between himself and his vessel, having been in the body for so long.

He neared the cash register then stopped cold, realizing he didn’t have a wallet.

Head beginning to pound, Gabriel tried to think. That was another thing. It was so hard to think.

After a while of attracting stares as he stood in front of the canned vegetable aisle, Gabriel remembered that he tended to have cash laying around his apartment for when he ordered pizza or other takeout. He took a deep breath and flew, hating he hadn’t just brought money in the first place, that this had caused an extra trip. He grabbed the money and returned to his cart at the store, out of breath and dizzy.

Just get to the register and pay, he told himself. Just pay and then you can leave.

“Did you find everything you needed, today?” the cashier asked with forced politeness, clearly trying not to gag at the smell.

“Yes,” he said, his voice sounding foreign to him. “Thank you.”

She rang him up quickly, for which he was grateful, and he handed her the wad of money.

“Sir, it’s only thirty-nine dollars,” she said, handing him back several twenties.

Why hadn’t he known that? “Oh, sorry,” he said, embarrassed. He didn’t remember her even saying the total.

Someone in the store yelled, and Gabriel flinched. Part of him knew it was a happy yell, a young child, but all he could think was that Asmodeus was here, ready to pummel him and drag him back to Hell.

He grabbed his cart and flew, not waiting for change, and crash-landed in his apartment, immediately cowering into the fetal position.

“No, no, no,” he murmured, shaking. “No, not again, no,” he whimpered.

 

Gabriel opened his eyes to realize that the sun was setting and there was a shopping cart in the middle of his living room. He must have fallen asleep. He thought back until he remembered his trip to the store and how it had ended, and he burned with shame. He knew he should get up and return the cart, but he had no energy left, he couldn’t even make himself go a few feet to grab a can of food to deal with the hunger pain in his stomach.

He drifted off again, waking fitfully several times through the night after seeing Asmodeus. He reminded himself that he had been the one to kill Asmodeus, but still he dreamed of the demon.

 

In the morning he made himself drink two glasses of water with a can of red beans, and realized happily that he had a little more energy. The right thing to do was to return the cart, and then if he had enough energy, finally take a bath.

He stood, a little shaky but better than yesterday, and emptied the cart on to the counter. By the end, he was exhausted, so he broke off a weight gain shake from one of the packs and plopped on to the couch. A cloud of dust flew up around him, but the couch was much softer than the floor, and he leaned back gratefully on it. He sipped at the drink until it was gone, then forced himself back up.

It was a quick enough deed to return the cart, but he was worn down by the time he got home, and lied down by the balcony door again to sleep.

 

That evening, Gabriel decided that if he was going to bathe, he needed clean clothes and a clean place to sleep after, so he carefully made his way down the hall to retrieve his vacuum. He walked back with it, then sat on his coffee table and set up the hose. Dad, he missed using his powers. Everything was so hard like this, but he knew he was getting stronger, and that he’d get there eventually.

He dragged the vacuum along the fabric of the couch, sucking up years of dust until he figured he wouldn’t feel gross getting back on it once he was clean.

Arms sore from the task, he tried to not curse himself, to cut himself some slack. Because if he couldn’t, and nobody else would, he knew he’d just fall apart again. It had been hard enough scraping his way out enough to save Sam and Cas, and he couldn’t risk going back to that tortured state.

After a few minutes, he heaved himself up, desperate to be rid of the stench of years in Hell. If he started to fall asleep in the tub, he could drain it before that happened.

Gabriel walked slowly and carefully down the hall and to the bathroom, bringing a can of soup with a pull tab that he could use as a snack. If he had had enough energy to look down other aisles at the store, maybe he would have grabbed granola bars or sweets. Oh, how he missed sweets, and he was terrified to try them again, worried it would mean he was getting too comfortable, which would mean something bad would happen.

He stopped, leaning against the wall to rub his forehead with his thumb and forefinger, trying to rid himself of the thoughts.

A couple minutes later and he was sitting on the edge of the tub, running a bath. He shed his tattered clothes, throwing them in the small bathroom trash where they overflowed, but that was fine. It was enough to know they were trashed. He climbed in the bathtub, sighing at the pleasant warmth, the soothing water, and sat carefully. He was too tired to wash himself, but he needed to wash anyway.

He stopped the water when it covered his legs, and drizzled bath lotion into his hand. He rubbed it with his other hand and began to work his way down one leg, then repeated the actions for the other leg. The water was already black, the filth and grime so layered on, that he had to drain the tub and refill it.

A particularly nasty gash on his chest was painful to wash, and he was sure that the only reason he hadn’t gotten an infection was that he must have had some residual grace that never got tapped into, either by choice or chance on Asmodeus’ part. He scrubbed at his arms, then had to drain and refill the tub again.

Gabriel wet his hair, leaning back in the water to do so, then poured a generous amount of shampoo on. He massaged the lotion in thoroughly, then rinsed it and cleaned his face, too.

After a new batch of water, Gabriel started on his wings, careful along the scars and the areas feathers had been ripped off in clumps or burned off. His heart ached; his wings had once been a point of pride. They were supposed to be dazzling and bright and magnificent. It would be a long time before they were the same. They were things that grew over centuries, not days. Now, he didn’t even want to look at them longer than he had to to get them clean or use them for flight.

He didn’t fall asleep in the tub, but as he got out, he realized his only changes of clothes were in his room, and he didn’t expect them to smell great after sitting in a closet that long. He didn’t have the energy to change, anyway, so he made his way to the couch with a towel wrapped around him. The towel smelled a little off, too, but he didn’t have the energy to care.

He collapsed on what was to serve as his bed until he had the energy to wash his sheets, and fell into a deep sleep.

 

Gabriel was glad for having stocked up on food, because he spent the next several days recovering from all he’d done. He was sore everywhere, and he knew that he had pushed himself, but it had been necessary. He started gaining strength back on the seventh day, and decided his next order of business would be to wash his clothes, bedsheets, and towels.

He dragged everything that needed washing in to a pile by the appliances, and set the first load going. He didn’t sleep as much now, and was starting to have enough energy that he got bored, so he traveled back to the couch and put on the tv.

The day passed uneventfully, but he felt accomplished when his living environment was that much cleaner. It was satisfying to put on his first clean clothes since before Hell, and he knew that soon, he would be ready. For what, he hadn’t quite decided, but he was going to do something.


End file.
